


Every Time a Bell Rings ...

by angelofthorsday



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-23 17:51:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelofthorsday/pseuds/angelofthorsday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Cas, are those <em>wings</em>?”<br/>The only signs Castiel showed that a pair of extremely fluffy, dark black wings attached to his back had just poofed into this plane of existence were a slight widening of his eyes and a blush steadily appearing on his face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They were in a diner the first time.

 

Castiel had been staying with the hunters for longer and longer after hunts until he left only to deal with Heaven and not the other way round.  Following last night’s hunt, which had resulted in Sam getting shoved headfirst into white water rapids and coming out more than a little battered on the other side, the angel had healed Sam’s injuries and spent the night watching television.  Dean had informed him, in so many words, that while he appreciated Castiel looking out for the brothers it was not customary to take the ‘watching them at all times of the day’ part literally. 

So his nights were usually spent admiring the products of the earth as shown on late night TV, and that night was no different.  This morning was no different either: Dean waking up from what seemed to Castiel to be far too little sleep (though his only reference was his observation of people when stationed on earth) and going through his daily preparations before driving them to breakfast, save for Sam’s insistence on sleeping in this once. 

“I can still feel the water up my nose and I’m sore all over,” he had whined. 

“Cas fixed you, so unless his angel mojo’s not working anymore, up and at ‘em Sammy.”

Sam had glared back with what Dean referred to as Bitchface #6 (though how the faces of ‘bitches’ differed from normal faces Castiel was still unsure) until they had left for breakfast without him. 

They were seated in a booth by the window with a clear line of sight to the exits.  Dean was surveying the diner and Castiel was looking out the window at the scenery and the passersby as usual.  He liked people-watching and appreciated the fact that when he was around, Dean and Sam made an effort to sit by the window. 

The hunter was ordering for them both, yet another greasy meal for himself and a chocolate malt for Castiel.  The angel took the chance to observe Dean while he was preoccupied.  He still did not understand why humans reserved long looks for sexual situations and intimate moments.  They examined every new thing under close scrutiny, yet refused to do the same with people without trying to hide what they were doing.  No matter how long he observed them, humans were always going to surprise him, especially Dean.

When their food came, bringing with it the comfortable silence of the very hungry, he returned to people-watching out the window in between sips of his malt. 

Since it was nearing Christmas, the man in a Santa suit collecting money for charity was not unusual.  Castiel watched as he passed a group of shoppers, the ringing of his bell muffled by the glass.

A puff of displaced air caused Dean to look up from his bacon. 

“Cas, are those _wings_?”

The only signs Castiel showed that a pair of extremely fluffy, dark black wings attached to his back had just poofed into this plane of existence were a slight widening of his eyes and a blush steadily appearing on his face.

“Yes.  It appears something has triggered the manifestation of my wings.”

“Do you know what this something is?”  

Castiel shook his head and Dean rubbed his face tiredly. 

“Can you, I don’t know, put ‘em back in your pants?”

The angel stared off into space, presumably trying to shove his wings back to whatever dimension they came from, but only succeeding in making himself look constipated. 

Dean took a minute to admire the wings and ignore the strange looks Castiel was getting (no one had started screaming yet so he thought it safe to assume it was for his expression rather than the sudden appearance of extra appendages).  Though a matte black, they shone blue when angled a certain way, like blue jays do.  They were shaped similar to bird wings but were made of something that more closely resembled cumulus clouds.  Unfortunately, they were proportional to his body and even folded stiffly behind his back took up a good deal of space in the booth.

Castiel blinked finally, eyes still wide and slightly panicked.

“They're not going back,” he observed.

“No shit Sherlock.”

The angel shot back a look that clearly said ‘I know you know my name is not Sherlock and I know you know that I do not understand this reference that is not in any way helping us figure this out.  If you don’t have anything helpful to contribute, don’t waste time confusing me.’  Dean felt he was really getting the hang of reading Cas’s micro-expressions. 

“Hey, no use getting your feathers all ruffled.  Why don’t you pop back to the motel while I finish up here and we can call Bobby.  He might know where to start at the very least.”

“Should I brace myself for more bird related humor?” Castiel asked dryly.

Dean grinned.  “Probably.”

 

The rest of the day researching and several phone calls to Bobby yielded no answers.  Little could be found on the subject of angels and even less information existed about their wings.  According to their resident expert, most angels did not manifest their wings outside of heaven.  On earth they were sensitive and hiding the manifestations from curious eyes required ongoing concentration; the more people he had to shield, the harder it was to maintain.  Castiel had offered to ask another angel for more information but they decided to wait until the situation was more extreme.  For now, the wings were merely cumbersome and mildly embarrassing.

However Dean would swear they were getting wispier, less substantial, as if the clouds that made up his wings were dissipating in a light breeze.  When he pointed this out to Sam, his brother admitted he had noticed as well.  They both subtly monitored the look of the wings every now and then, conscious of the fact that Castiel was uncomfortable with them staring.

By the next morning, they had faded considerably, and before they went to sleep again, Castiel confirmed that his wings were back where they belonged. 

And that should have been that.


	2. Chapter 2

They were in a library the third time.

Research was a boring but necessary part of being a hunter.  Sometimes you ran across an interesting legend or a rare occurrence but mostly it was about finding out as much as possible on the latest monster that wanted to kill you, your brother and that hot bartender/waitress/local single in gruesome ways. 

Necessary but not always interesting, especially when the novelty’s worn off. 

The monster of the week seemed to be a gorgon, normally only found around Greece, with the highest concentration around Corfu - something to do with preferred mineral content in the water and soil.  Unfortunately this one had somehow found its way to Alcatraz and, unhappy with the unfamiliar conditions, was causing more trouble than usual.

Sam and Dean were taking their time researching, both to do a thorough job and because no one was likely to be in danger for a while after police closed the island due to ‘unforeseen circumstances.’  Castiel was busy working his way through the nonfiction section, catching up on years of literature.

They had settled at a table in the back where few people passed by. 

Sam’s attention was caught by a short woman with dark honey colored hair.  She was rooting around in her purse a couple rows away, Christmas themed charm bracelet jingling with presents, bells, and candy canes.  There seemed to be something familiar about her but he wasn’t able to finish his thought as a light breeze and a flash of motion in the corner of his eye distracted him.

“Not again,” Dean groaned as a flush began to grace the angel’s face again and both hunters sighed. 

With as much composure as he could manage, Castiel mumbled a hurried, “I’ll see you back at the motel,” and disappeared.

Since there was really nothing they could do but wait it out like the last two times, Sam and Dean went back to researching.  After all, Castiel was still an angel and could take care of himself, wings and all. 

Or so they thought until that night when they went to gank the gorgon.

The police lockdown meant that no boats could approach the island so, unfortunately for Dean, the brothers were taking the Angel Express to Alcatraz.  They had made a pit stop at one of the weapons caches they stockpiled around the country to pick up some knives and bullets made from Grecian bronze, and arrived at the island shortly after dark. 

“Thanks for going easy on us, feathers,” Dean grimaced, not even trying to mask the sarcasm.  Castiel refused to encourage him by responding so Sam tactfully changed the subject by suggesting they get started.

They took out their mirrors, ready to shut their eyes at the first sign of movement. The gorgon could not actually turn them into stone, but if one of them made eye contact with the main head or any of the snakes, he would find his body locking up as the gorgon slowly drained his remaining years, leaving him effectively a statue frozen in time.  The mirrors were useful as gorgons were compelled to stare down any other gorgons they saw in a show of dominance, and luckily for hunters, the reflection counted as a whole new gorgon. 

The three men started down the side of the island, looking for a cave close to the sea.  It took them nearly half an hour to find one that looked wide enough to attract a gorgon.  The other caves had been markedly smaller than this one, in which the three hunters could walk comfortably side by side at the narrowest point. 

They had gotten far enough into the dark cave for it to widen considerably when Sam heard his own voice calling Dean’s name from a little further inside.  As Dean instinctually pivoted towards Sam’s voice, his stomach dropped and he knew what Dean would see.  Sam was too far away to do anything except focus on his brother on the other side of Castiel - Castiel who was reaching towards Dean with both hand and wing extended and while his arm would have done nothing against the gorgon, his wing, large and fluffy as it was, blocked Dean from the gorgon’s gaze. 

Unfortunately the wing also blocked the mirror from view and the scaly humanoid took this opportunity to attack, tearing two gashes in Castiel’s wing which crumpled slightly but still hovered protectively in between the two.  Dean shoved his mirror over the top of the wing, blindly hoping it was pointed in the right direction as Sam went around the frozen beast and with a well placed stab of his bronze dagger, it disintegrated into dust.

“Clear!” Sam called as soon as the dust settled and immediately Dean was grabbing Castiel and hauling him to his feet to inspect his wing.  The cuts were on the outside of his wing, about halfway from the end and fairly deep.  They looked too real, as if the wound was more substantial than the actual wing, which was just beginning to fade. 

The closest Sam could come to describing the wound was that it was like a rift in time and space had split the sky open on his wings, exposing molten, well, whatever they were made of. 

While Sam was inspecting the wound, Dean had started berating the angel. 

“Shit Cas, you really are a birdbrain.  You told us they were sensitive, not _vulnerable._ ”

“I was unaware of this fact myself, I told you everything I knew about my wings.”

Dean continued as if he hadn’t spoken.  “You could’ve been seriously hurt back there.  Cas you gotta be careful for once!  I swear your dad gave _geese_ more sense than he gave you.  That’d be just like you to survive the apocalypse and die from a simple hunt.”

Throughout his mini-lecture, Dean kept touching Castiel, running his hands over the trench coat, straightening his tie, fixing his hair and smoothing out of place feathers.  Castiel was silent during Dean’s ministrations but Sam could have sworn he was blushing again.  Sam vaguely remembered Castiel saying something to him about how angels’ wings were the most personal gift God had given each one when He made them and touching another’s without permission was taboo.  He wondered if Dean knew he was basically fondling Cas’s angel private parts in public and hoped he would be there when Dean finally figured it out.  Although by the looks of things, Castiel wasn’t too upset about it.   _Ok, time for a new train of thought._

“That’s it, you’re staying in the car next time.”  Dean seemed to realize how much he was touching Castiel at this point and backed up, stressing his decision by waving a finger at the angel reprovingly. 

When Castiel produced a bitchface almost as good as one of Sam’s and opened his mouth to protest, Dean cut him off again.

“Ah!  No arguments!  I’m not risking your wings any more.  Now, can you wait until we get back for us to bandage your wing?”

“That’s unnecessary, my wing will heal on its own.”

“You’re usually healed already, what’s taking so long?”

Dean reached for his wing again to look at the cuts but Castiel pulled his wings back and flared them defensively, wincing at the movement.

“It’s fine, it doesn’t need a bandage, leave it be,” he snapped.

“Woah, dude calm down.  We don’t have to wrap ‘em.”

Sam had been busy cleaning off the weapons and erasing traces of the gorgon but now decided to join the conversation.  As the smart and (relatively) emotionally stable brother, it was his job to make sure Dean didn’t screw up his chances with Castiel, even if Dean didn’t acknowledge he wanted a chance with him.  As it was, taking the initiative mediating an argument was also part of being the smart and (relatively) emotionally stable brother.

“Hey Cas, you’re still holding it at a weird angle.  Broken bones don’t heal right unless they’re set, maybe it’s the same with wings?  But how about we decide back at the motel.”  Sam glanced between the two sulking grown men for confirmation.  “Do you have enough juice to get us back?”

Castiel nodded and two fingers to the brothers’ heads later they appeared in their motel room.  They staggered a bit at the rough landing; the wound must be costing Castiel more energy than he was letting on.  Dean immediately grabbed the angel and helped him sit down on the edge of the closest bed.

“Are you sure you won’t let us help?”  Dean asked. 

“Uh, it might help if you told us why you don’t want your wings bandaged,” Sam said. 

“As I told you before, they’re much more sensitive than the rest of me and I can’t control them like my vessel.”

“Wait a sec,” Sam paused when he realized what was really going on.  “You’re scared aren’t you?  It hurts and that’s new to you and you don’t want it to hurt more.”

Castiel looked down, avoiding either brother’s eyes.

“I admit I am unused to how much pain I feel from the wound, especially when I move it.  It's quite unlike the pain I felt when it was just my grace in my vessel and I’d prefer to keep it at a lower level.  I believe bandaging it will make it hurt worse and have little effect on how it heals.”

“If it’s anything like a human wound, and to be honest it sounds like it is, then cleaning and setting it will not only help you heal faster but it’ll make it feel better,” Dean said quietly.  “Believe me, I got a lot of experience with this kinda thing.”

Castiel finally met Dean’s gaze and nodded slowly.  He stayed staring at Dean as he unfurled his wing.  They poured some antiseptic in the wound, just in case, taped a bandage over it and wrapped the wing so that Castiel could hold it comfortably folded against his back.  Castiel kept still despite the stinging, Dean reassuring him throughout the process that it would feel better when they were done.

They changed the bandage daily, or rather Dean changed the bandage because “I hope you don’t mind Sam but I would prefer if just one person touched them.”  Only the thought that his brother might _actually_ kill him this time stopped Sam from mercilessly teasing his brother about being the only one for Cas, especially when he was sure Dean had some doctor/patient fantasies he could exploit.  Seriously, the man watched Dr. Sexy on a regular basis, if that wasn’t cause for teasing he didn’t know what was.

As the wound healed, the wings began to fade with it.  It took much longer this time, but after a week and a half, Castiel’s wings were back in the correct plane of existence. 


	3. Chapter 3

Everything came to a head the ninth time.

Dean had been on edge ever since Cas injured his wing protecting him. Sam predicted that there would soon be a point where Dean could not deny his epic gay interspecies love for the angel and they’d have to start getting separate rooms for once.  But the fourth, fifth, and sixth times happened during downtime and without incident, never during a case again.  Dean took the good luck but Sam was suspicious. 

However Dean was being even more overprotective of his angel – enough so that Sam had no problem calling Castiel ‘Dean’s angel’ in his head.  Never out loud where Dean could hear him though.  That’d be one way to avert an apocalypse: _I’m sorry Lucifer, you can’t have me as a vessel, my brother killed me for teasing him too much about how he’s in love with an angel._

It was almost New Year’s Eve and in the past weeks they had been accosted by a series of more and more implausible things that caused Castiel’s wings to emerge.  There had been that time a jingling ice cream truck drove by in the middle of the business district.  And that time Dean’s ringtone had somehow been changed to the low-pitched ringing of church bells.  And of course they ended up in the one city that rang bells all around town on Christmas Eve.  Castiel could still be heard muttering about how “tradition” had changed for the worse over the years.

The trio had gone for after-case celebratory pie at a candy shop Dean insisted they stop in at, Hel’s Candy.  The legendary pie was apparently good enough to die for over and over and over again.

Unfortunately for Castiel, when an order was done the cashier rang a bell in case the customer who ordered it was seated outside.  Castiel closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath at the now familiar appearance of his wings but stayed with them.  He slid into the seat next to the window leaving Dean to sit down next to him and Sam across from them. 

A waitress came over almost immediately, asking, “What can I do ya for boys?”

She wrote down their orders and the evening sun reflected brightly off a familiar Christmas charm bracelet. 

“That’s an interesting bracelet,” Sam remarked before she left the table.

“It’s one of a kind,” she said and winked over her shoulder on the way back to the counter.

Their pie was brought round soon after and Sam had barely taken his eyes off the waitress once.  He had recognized her as the woman from the library in San Francisco but he still could not place where he knew her from.  Their position by the window meant he could stare at her while she worked.  Which he did. 

Her hair caught his interest, not quite blond not quite brown but a honeyed mix of the two.  It was so familiar to him, yet he could not place it and that was driving him mad.  Perhaps it was just the new “in” color of hair.  Maybe he’d just seen it around enough for it to get caught in his subconscious.

Her bronze eyes held a hint of green in them if they caught the light just right.  Sam blinked and realized the waitress had been staring right back at him.  He blushed slightly and she winked again.  There was _definitely_ something familiar about that devious grin. 

And then, similar to the way a rubber band stretched too tight snaps, everything clicked back into place.

He exhaled slowly.

“Gabriel.”

“What about him? The dude’s dead,” Dean said and resumed the careful attack on his pie. 

“He may have died but that’s _definitely_ him.”  Sam nodded towards the waitress.

“What? _Her_?  Maybe the last hunt messed up your memory but Gabriel’s a guy.”

“You seem to have a hard time understanding that angels are genderless, Dean.  We do not nor have we ever cared about gender in relation to anything.  It was humans that decided to impose rules and expectations based on their most basic understanding of souls,” Castiel shot back.

“Either way, it’s not him.  Or her,” Dean added with a glance towards Castiel.

“Why don’t we just ask her?” Sam suggested.

Dean shook his head but flagged the waitress down.

“Something wrong with the food?  Need a refill?”  She asked.

“No, we’re all good, and this is gonna sound a little odd but is your name Gabriel?”

“That’s not what it says on my nametag, hon.”

“Gabriel cut the crap I know it’s you,” Sam snapped.

As she turned to look at him, _she_ became a _he_.  The change was instantaneous, one second there was a puzzled waitress the next there was Gabriel, dressed in the same clothes he wore in the hotel with Lucifer.

“Hey boys!  Did you miss me?”

There was silence at the table for a while as the three just stared at Gabriel before Sam found his voice.

“What are you doing here?”

“Just having some fun.  Smiting here and there, fixing up emotionally constipated couples, playing tricks on people, delivering judgments, partying, the usual.”

“How long have you been back?  Or were you even gone?”

“No, I was gone.  I just got my body back six weeks ago.”

“You mean six weeks ago when Cas’s wings started going haywire?”  Dean seethed.

“I wasn’t really keeping track but yeah, I’d say right around then,” Gabriel pondered, though his face was too serious for it not to be an act.

”Why didn’t Cas tell us it was you that was doing this?” Dean demanded more than asked.

“He didn’t know!  I’m just that awesome.” 

Sam raised his eyebrows at this and Castiel seemed on the verge of rolling his eyes at his brother.

“Come on, you really think that an archangel can’t make sure his baby brother doesn’t blow his cover?” Gabriel laughed and sprawled into the booth next to Sam.

He conjured up more pie for them and for a while everyone ate it in an unstated truce.  Until Dean, of course, was the one to break the silence.

“Do you have wings too?”

“’Course I do.  I’m a messenger, I have to get around, isn’t that right Sammy?” He asked with a lewd smirk.

Dean glared at the archangel.  “You stay away from him, he’s not going to be one of your one-time conquests.”

“Oh no, definitely not,” Gabriel promised, looking solemn now and Sam refused to accept that his stomach clenched at that. 

Gabriel continued, “We’ll do it way more than one time.”

Dean purpled.

 

Clearly Dean and Gabriel could not stay in the same room for too long if they wanted to keep Dean sane and Gabriel alive so Sam volunteered to drive Dean back to the motel and give the angels time to talk.

“Actually, Dean and I will meet you back at the room.  I’m sure you two would like to catch up as well and I need a word alone with him,” Castiel replied stiffly.

The car ride was short and silent and as soon as they were back in their motel room, Castiel finally lashed out.

“Stop babying me Dean.  I’m not a child and having my wings out does not make me weak like you seem to think it does.”

“I just,” Dean sighed.  “I can’t lose you, Cas.  You’re part of the family now, as messed up as it is.”

“You don’t fuss over Sam this much.  Why must you make a big deal about it?  Don’t you trust me?”  The angel was full on sulking now, wings puffed up to show his annoyance.  Really, if he wanted Dean to stop being careful around his wings he should consider not acting like a little child.

“Wha- of course I do!  This isn’t a matter of trust.”

“Than what is it?” Castiel insisted, adding quietly, “Would you prefer it if you felt you didn’t have to keep me safe?”

“I, God, Cas, I want to take care of you _because_ I care.  In a not-quite-platonic way. Geez you think you’d’ve figured that out already.”

Castiel was quiet now, not sulking anymore but doing his confused head tilt.

“It’s a human thing, Cas.  _People worry about loved ones_.  I thought you’d understand that you don’t need to put yourself in danger for me to worry.  I don’t let it bother me because you can take care of yourself, _usually._   But don’t ever think I don’t care and that I don’t panic every time you might be hurt.”

He paused for breath and to pace a few steps before continuing, “Do you think you’re a burden on us?  On me?  Is that what this is about?  Cause that is so not true.  I need you more than you could ever need me.”

Castiel shook his head slowly and stared at the floor.  His voice was a resigned whisper, "Dean, you've never needed me."

Dean grabbed the lapels of the trench coat, and pulled him into a kiss.  He wondered just when he’d gone from wanting nothing to do with angels to doing a double take every time he saw a flash of tan trench coat but that thought didn’t seem to matter much when his brain finally registered the feel of slightly chapped lips, hands tightening in the fabric of his shirt, wings holding him close. 

It was barely more than a heated press of their lips together.  For once Dean was determined to take it slow, no matter how frustrated he got when Castiel didn’t understand.  He pulled back, though they were still closer than Dean had ever allowed them to be and tried to get the words he needed to say out of his mouth.  Too much had happened because they didn’t communicate.  He wasn’t going to go from zero to chick-flick levels of sharing overnight but he was damn well going to be on the same page as his angel before they started anything. 

“Do you get it now?  I love you.”

“I love you too, Dean.” 


	4. Chapter 4

“So,” Sam began as soon as Dean and Castiel had driven away.  He wasn’t sure what to say but he knew they should probably talk about _something_. 

“You’re back,” he stated lamely. 

“Yes, Sam, I’m back,” Gabriel answered without looking up from his third piece of pie, his voice too indulgent to not be patronizing. 

“But-but how on earth did you survive?  Lucifer stabbed you!  With an angel blade no less.”

“Kiddo, I’ve been more than just an angel for a long time.  Being a pagan god gives you certain _advantages_ ,” he grinned, finally taking a break from eating pie.  “And I’m not just talking about otherworldly good looks, cause I’ve had those since I was made.”

Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes.  It was no use telling him to get to the point, Gabriel was going to take his time with the story and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Anyhoo Samskatchewan, I had more than enough time to spread my grace around so it wasn’t all contained inside my vessel.  All those offerings and rituals weren’t just for sex.  Okay they weren’t _all_ just for sex,” he conceded.  “So when Lucy killed my vessel my grace dissipated back to my safety precautions and it was just a matter of getting back enough strength to manifest.”

“Speaking of manifesting, can you show your wings too?  Or was that just a trick you played on Cas?”

Something soft but firm bonked him in the back of the head.  Sam twisted and got a face full of feathers.  Creamy gold, they smelled like sugar with a hint of peppermint.

Gabriel carefully returned to his pie and attempted to pretend he wasn’t spying on Sam lightly petting the feathers in awe.  His wings were held still now, as if any movement would send Sam running, though there was nowhere for him to go.  However, even trapped as he was between the wall and the archangel, Sam was content to just glide his fingers over Gabriel’s wings.  They reminded him of the non-Newtonian fluids several of his science teachers in high school showed him.  The wings seemed to pass through the back of the booth effortlessly but resisted his curious fingers.

He pressed harder along the ridge of bone leading back to Gabriel’s shoulder, ruffling the smaller feathers on top and watching them fall back into place.  Gabriel closed his eyes and everything Castiel had said about wings came back to Sam.  He pulled back immediately and started stammering, “Oh God, Gabriel I’m so sorry.  I forgot they were private.  It’s just they were right there and I thought, um, I’m sorry.”

He folded his hands on the table so he didn’t manhandle the archangel again, staring down at them like a scolded child.

“No, it’s fine.  It’s just been a while since I brought them out.  I wasn’t as prepared for it as I thought.  And it’s not like having our wings touched is _painful_.”  He knocked Sam in the back of his head again and Sam blushed when he didn’t break contact this time.

“What’s it like?  Having wings?”

“It’s kinda hard to explain, Sammy, you not being an angel and all, but,” Gabriel paused and regarded his pie with a thoughtful expression. 

“We’re so powerful that having them out bothers most because they see them as a weakness instead of just another part of us.  They don’t remember what it was like in the beginning when we were more like you guys.  When we actually _felt_ with our wings and vessels.  It’s like Dad put all our important nerves, all our soul, in our wings and keeping them tucked away is like keeping all our feelings at bay.  Most of us ended up like Vulcans.  Less so with the younger angels but well, you’ve seen what Michael and Lucifer became.”

Sam was all too familiar with their brotherly squabbles.  Sighing, he leaned back into the booth and felt his resentment at the petty angels fade as Gabriel’s warm wing curled further around him.

“As for how they feel, most angels were idiots who didn’t know how to take care of them and ended up hurting themselves.  That’s where Cas got the idea that wings are a bad thing.  But if you take care of them, the fact that they’re very sensitive can be a really good thing, if you get what I’m saying.”

The last part was accompanied by a not-so-subtle nudge of Gabriel’s elbow into Sam’s side.

“Cas said it was dangerous and barely any angels took their wings out, so how’d _you_ figure out how to safely show them?”

“Dad mostly.  I talked to him the most before he left, and I’ve learned an awful lot about where all the parts of me were stashed throughout the ages.  But even as a messenger for Dad I saw a lot of things, figured maybe they’d come in useful one day.  Added a few tweaks here and there, stuff I learned as a pagan god, just like your little reverse exorcism.  Don’t think I wasn’t watching you guys - I was spread thin not dead.”

“I thought you were,” Sam said, and it came out softer than he expected. 

“I would’ve told you as soon as I could but I saw those two still awkwardly staring at each other and I couldn’t resist playing matchmaker.”

Gabriel was suddenly serious, and his wings fluttered, betraying his nervousness.

“I hope you know I never meant to hurt Cas.  I just wanted him to remember what it was like before.  That night in the cave I was watching but I didn’t expect him to jump in front of Dean like that.  I was all prepared to stop the gorgon from sucking the life out of your brother but Cas decided to play the hero.  And here I was thinking I could have that role for once.”

The last bit was barely a longing whisper and the archangel trailed off.  His wings finally stilled as he stared pensively out the window.

“I know, why don’t you go check on our brothers?”  Gabriel suggested, just a little too enthusiastically.  Sam wasn’t given any time to answer before a snap of the archangel’s fingers left him outside the motel room.

If Sam peeked through the window to see how it had turned out, he absolutely _did not_ bend down until his elbows were on the windowsill and rest his face in his hands while he watched the two men inside.  Despite what Dean said he was not that much of a twelve-year-old girl.  And anyway, even if he did it was only because it was a comfortable position. 

“Whatcha doing?” Sam started as Gabriel reappeared between blinks holding a caramel apple. 

“Ooh!  Spying on the big bro are we?  Heeey, good for them!  I thought the pining would never end.”

“It might be over but we’ll still have to deal with the eye-sex.  We should probably go in and say goodnight, I doubt they’ll want us bothering them later.”

They entered the room, making sure to knock beforehand, to Dean and Castiel standing much further apart than their previous state of almost on top of each other.

“So, did you two have a nice chat?” Gabriel asked with a knowing smile.

“Hey Sam?” Dean asked.

“Separate rooms?” 

Dean’s answering grin had only a hint of embarrassment in it.

“You got it,” Sam answered.  As soon as Dean turned back to Castiel though, he rolled his eyes. 

“Took you two idiots long enough.”  Even as he said it, Sam couldn’t stop a matching smile from taking over his face.

“C’mon you big moose,” Gabriel demanded as he pulled Sam out of the room.

“Where’re we going?”

“We’re going somewhere, _anywhere_ , with a couch.  Or a flat surface,” he added as an afterthought. 

“Um, do I want to know why?”

“Well if we’re going to be making out for a while I’d rather not get a crick in my neck from craning up to reach you and your antlers, and I can’t imagine bending down is any comfier.”

“Oh, that’s very … thoughtful?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes and took Sam’s hand before snapping them away.

Nothing ever explicitly changed between them; there were no big declarations, no discussions, no epiphanies.  Life happened and it felt natural to end up at this point.  But as Sam found himself pushed onto a couch in a room he couldn’t care less about, being straddled by an archangel, he realized maybe this was the turning point in his life.  This was definitely changing him more than being Lucifer’s vessel had. 

But he’d think about that later, it was hard to care either way at the moment.  He grinned and pulled Gabriel in, laughing into his mouth as a pair of golden wings unfolded and enveloped them.


End file.
